


I'll Take Your Heart Served Up Two Ways

by PunkRockPiccolo



Series: Fem!Fall Out Boy [15]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - No Band, F/F, First Dates, First Meetings, Genderswap, Patricia is stubborn, and Petra is secretly a nervous wreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-19 22:50:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14247408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PunkRockPiccolo/pseuds/PunkRockPiccolo
Summary: When working as a server in a restaurant near a popular concert venue, you get to meet and serve many different interesting and famous people. Unfortunately for Patricia, one of those famous people has decided that she's worth sticking around for.(FIXED! AO3 didn't post the full thing the first time)





	I'll Take Your Heart Served Up Two Ways

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Autumnoutboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autumnoutboy/gifts).



> This turned out way longer than I thought it would. It also took way longer because it's nearing finals for college, so i'm to tired to exist sometimes.
> 
> This was a request from Autumnoutboy that I thoroughly enjoyed writing, so I hope you enjoy reading.

Patricia could complain about being a waitress- excuse me, “server”- at some off-chain restaurant, but to be fair, it paid the bills.

Paradise was definitely not a five, or even a four-star establishment, though the dark stained wood and nightly low-lighting seemed to suggest otherwise to the guests who ran her ragged.

But, no. Patricia could complain, very loudly if she wanted, about the rude guests who all liked to swarm the restaurant at once, leaving the whole crew weeded and exhausted by the end of the night. But, she didn’t. At least not very often.

Luckily, her coworkers made coming in almost every day bearable.

“Trish! Food up!”

“Brenda, I am standing right next to you, you don’t have to shout.”

“But if I’m going to be a manager someday, I need to work on my “food-runner” yell.”

Patricia rolled her eyes and grabbed the two salads from the Expo window.

“How about I run my foot up your ass, instead? Go check on your tables. I think 40 needs more water.”

The younger girl childishly stuck her tongue out as Patricia walked out of the kitchen. The two salads in her hands delivered to the old ladies who came in every Friday night after their downtown stroll. They were really sweet and had started to request Patricia. It didn’t hurt that they tipped really well, too.

The night had actually been going really well, but of course that all had to be jammed when Andi, the host, came over to Patricia as she was typing in an order.

“Hey, I’ve got a party of eight. I’d give them to Brenda or Gee, but they’ve got their hands full. Can you take them?”

Patricia tapped her nails on the faux-marble top of the computer station. She only had three tables, and one was about to leave.

“Sure. But, only if you skip me in rotation once.”

Andi nodded and clapped her shoulder. “Done. They’re performing across the street tonight, so they shouldn’t be too long.”

Patricia nodded gratefully and finished ringing table 23’s dessert. The coolest thing about working across the street from a concert venue was definitely all of the cool musicians and bands she got to meet while working. She glanced out the window, looking to the marquis that showed whatever act was playing the Sova that night.

“ARMA ANGELUS”

Huh, Patricia had heard the name in passing once or twice, but never really listened to them. Supposedly, they started in the underground scene, but after signing to a label, their popularity had sky-rocketed. Their bassist was apparently famous for being one of the only female members of a hardcore band.

Okay, Patricia was kind of excited to serve this party.

Andi lead the group back to Patricia’s section, as she slipped back into the kitchen, the perfect spot to sneak looks at her tables.

The group was pretty much what she’d been expecting. Seven guys all wearing some form of dark-tattered band t-shirts and ripped jeans, and one girl with a short pixie-cut and just a touch too much eyeliner.

Placing her practiced “server smile” on her face, Patricia walked out of the kitchen and placed coasters down in front of them.

“Hey Guys! My name’s Patricia and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

There was a barely heard whisper of “I fucking hope so” followed by a snort and the sound of light pushing. Patricia just ignored it.

“So, what can I get you all started with?”  


(~~~)

Patricia was done. She was so done.

And to be fair, the Arma party was actually a pretty pleasant group. They were a little rowdy, sure, but they weren’t difficult or running her ragged.

No, the one problem she had was the way their bassist- Petra, she’d heard them call her- kept leering at her like she had some kind of vicious secret.

Now, having worked in the food industry for as long as she has, Patricia is no stranger to the jealous girlfriend or the spiteful woman who decided that Patricia was the cause of all of their problems.

But, there was absolutely no reason for Petra to harbor any kind of malicious feelings toward her. So, the taunting looks and sharp grins were completely uncalled for.

Finally, Patricia thanked the Lord, they called for the check. Petra snatched the little book out of her fellow band member’s hand and waved her finger.

“Nu-uh, Chris. This one’s mine. You can pay for breakfast.”

“Chris” rolled his eyes.

“Whatever, Petra.”

Patricia took the book back and ran the shiny red card through the computer before handing it back with the receipt and a pen.

“You all have a wonderful night and enjoy your show.”  


They all shouted their thanks as they gathered their jackets and hustled themselves out the door.

Patricia picked up the check book from the table and headed back into the kitchen, slumping against the counter with a groan.

“Oh, thank God, they’re gone.”

Gee, her slick dark hair pulled back into a ponytail, leaned casually beside her.

“Difficult table?”

Patricia shook her head.

“Not really. Their bassist just hates me for no reason apparently.”

Gee scrunched her nose up.

“Petra Wentz? Huh, that doesn’t sound like her.”  
“Do you know her?”  
Gee shrugged and walked over to the drink station, filling a glass with ice and setting it under the Sprite nozzle.

“I’ve met her a few times. My sister Michaela is friends with her. I thought she was really nice when I met her. I can’t see why she’d hate you for no reason.”

Patricia shrugged and waved the book in her hand.

“I just got this vibe. Anyway, let’s see if she even left me anything.”

Honestly, she was expecting a zero, or maybe like three dollars for a tip at most, even though the bill was a little over two hundred. She wasn’t expecting the hefty double digits, nor was she even considering the hastily written lines at the bottom.

“You get 25% of the bill and 100% of my heart. Call me?”

It was followed by a phone number.

Patricia just stared at the slip.

Gee raised her brow and shuffled over to see.

“What? No tip? Did she leave a rant? I hate it when they…..oh….ooooh. I don’t think she hates you, Trish.”

Patricia just groaned and rolled her eyes.

She was so done with this place.

(~~~)

Closing on a Friday night was always hell.

Paradise closed at 10:30, but of course, some stragglers would walk in at 10:25 and ask for a full three course meal.

Luckily, Brenda was stuck with the late-comers. So, that left Patricia to wipe down the tables and get ready to head out, grateful the other servers had cleaned up the kitchen before they left.

It was nearing 11pm when the last guests finally left. Billie, the closing manager, turned the lights up and shut off the in-house music.

“Okay, girls. Just make sure the tables are straight, then I’ll check you out in the office.”

Brenda walked around, straightening the salts and peppers while Patricia wiped own the table the last guests had sat at.

A quick tapping on the window next to the table made Patricia jump and almost drop the empty glass in her hands.

With a glower, she turned to look at whoever decided to scare the shit out of her, surprised when she saw none other than Petra Wentz grinning at her.

Patricia narrowed her eyes, slightly annoyed that she had to continue interacting with the girl. She mouthed a “What?”

Petra pointed to Patricia, then herself, and finally to the entrance of the restaurant, seeming to communicate that she wanted to talk with Patricia.

The blonde simply rolled her eyes with a shrug and headed into the back to drop the cup off in the dish pit, and check out with Billie.

As soon as she stepped through the glass doors, Petra slid up to her, a leering grin on her face.

“So, you come here often?”

Patricia knew it was the cheesiest pick up line in history, but she was honestly too tired to even try to humor it.

“…I work here…”

Petra’s grin changed into more of a sheepish smile, not letting the fumble get to her.

“Right, well, I was wondering if you might be free the rest of this lovely evening?”

It was almost midnight at this point and all Patricia wanted to do was go home and shower the smell of pasta and ranch out of her hair and sleep for twenty years.

“Hmm, tempting, but I’ve already got a hot date. A long shower and some time in bed, oh yeah, I’m pretty busy.”

The shocked look on Petra’s face at the outright rejection was priceless. Patricia had to stifle her laughter as she strode past the shell-shocked bassist and toward her car.

“But thanks for the offer!”

(~~~)

Sleeping in on days off had to be the best thing in Patricia’s world. No guests to satisfy at 11am, no hectic running around. Just her, her heavenly soft pillowtop, and a constantly buzzing cell phone.

Wait…that’s not right.

Irritation flooded through Patricia’s veins as she sat up, having been rudely awoken by the rattle of her phone against her nightstand. She checked the clock and growled loudly when she read 12pm. No one should be awake before 3 on their day off!

With sore muscles from working double shift basically all week, Patricia tossed her arm over and grabbed the source of her irritation.

[10 MISSED TEXT MESSAGES]

The blonde groaned and swiftly unlocked her phone. If Gaby was trying to get her to pick up her shift last minute because she was hung over, Patricia was going to delete her contact and block her number.

Surprise and confusion overtook her irritation when she saw that all of the missed texts were from an unknown number.

**847-729-2849: Hi, is this Patricia?**

**847-729-2849:It’s Petra**

**847-729-2849: From Arma**

**847-729-2849: Helloooooooo?**

**847-729-2849: I kno this is ur #**

**847-729-2849: come ooooooon. I just wanna ask u a question**

**847-729-2849: yikes. Just realized u might b busy**

**847-729-2849: just txt me whn ur free**

The last two messages were just a bunch of smiley and heart emojis.

Patricia’s irritation came back at full force. How in the world…?

**Patricia: How the fuck did you get my number.**

The response came almost immediately.

**847-729-2849: omg, you actually txtd back!**

**847-729-2849: ur friend Brenda gave it to me. shes super chill**

Patricia gritted her teeth and switched text conversations.

**Patricia: You’re so fucking dead**

**Bren:Huh? What? What I do?**

Patricia ignored her and switched back to Petra again. The string of numbers annoyed her, so she quickly put a name on the conversation, determined to just delete the contact afterwards.

**Patricia: Look, I’m flattered, but my answer is still no.**

**Petra: no to wht? I haven’t even asked anything yet**

**Petra: ok,ok, what if I ask u out for 1 drnk? Just 1**

**Petra: like not even high key dinner date. Just bar date**

Patricia rolled her eyes and flopped back into her pillows. This girl was persistent. And to be fair, she was extremely attractive. It was only Patricia’s stubborn nature and refusal to participate in anything that might end up as a one-night stand that kept her from accepting in the first place. Maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt…

As she contemplated her options, her phone buzzed again.

**Petra: oh shit, unless you totally aren’t into girls.**

**Petra: fuck I didn’t even thnk of that**

**Petra: omg I’m so sorry**

Patricia smiled a bit at the sudden tone switch. Okay, at least she wasn’t completely inconsiderate.

**Patricia: No, no it’s fine. I’m bi, so**

**Petra: oh thank god. I got really scared for a second there**

**Petra: sry, but yea the offer still stands**

Patricia sighed and bit her lip. Ah, what the hell.

**Patricia: Alright. One drink**

**Petra: FCK YSE**

**Petra: u wont regrt this trish I promise**

Patricia wrinkled her nose a bit at the nickname, but let it slide.

**Patricia: Sure, when and where?**

**Petra: How about alleyways at 8?**

**Patricia: Sounds good. See you then.**

Petra responded with another text full of emojis and Patricia rolled her eyes. Well, she was awake now with about seven hours to kill. Might as well get some things done.

(~~~)

Because she was the catalyst for the whole evening, Patricia dragged Brenda away from her Saturday night Netflix binge to help her get ready.

“Are you just going to passive-aggressively ask my opinion on how you look all night?”

“Yes, you lousy traitor.”

Brenda sighed dramatically and flung herself back on Patricia’s bed, waiting for the blonde to emerge from the ensuite bathroom.

“How many times do I have to apologize? She looked so sincere and sad! I couldn’t just say no!”

Patricia’s head popped around the door frame.

“Yes, yes you could have. That is a thing you as a human with free will can do.”

Brenda rolled her eyes.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? You already agreed, and I had nothing to do with that part. Now get out here so I can give my expert opinion on your dashing bar attire.”

Patricia walked out of the small bathroom, patting at her straightened hair nervously.

Brenda sat up and took in her clothes with a critical stare.

Black skinny jeans with white chucks, a black and white stripped sweater, and one of her black baseball caps.

Brenda frowned a bit and shook her head.

“Hmm, not quite. Let’s see here.”

The taller girl launched herself from the bed and into Patricia’s closet. She shuffled hangers around, pausing on some things for a moment before passing on them.

Patricia yelped as a light blue tank top came flying at her face, followed by a blue plaid button-up.

“There,” Brenda said emerging from the mass of clothes. “Wear those. That sweater gives you no shape.”

Patricia grumbled but changed as her friend said. She left the button-up unbuttoned at the top to show the tank top.

“There, that better?” Patricia muttered, flinging her arms to the side.

Brenda examined her again, smiling this time.

“Much better- WAIT! One more thing!”

She quickly snatched the hat off Patricia’s head, leaving her yelling indignantly.

“I know you hide behind your hats, so none of that tonight.”

Patricia sneered a bit, moving her hair to better frame her face so she had some semblance of cover. She felt so exposed without her hat.

Brenda nodded confidently and checked her watch.

“Alright, Juliet. Let’s get moving so you’re not late. I’ll drop you off.”

Patricia rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone, wallet, and keys.

“Whatever, Mom.”

(~~~)

Alleyways was an odd mix of nightclub and wine bar. Patricia had been there once for Gaby’s birthday, but she didn’t hang around for very long.

It was Saturday night, so the place was beginning to border on packed, but Patricia squeezed her way through the crowd of bodies and found two empty seats at the bar. With practiced speed from working in food service, she hopped up onto one seat and swung her lugs up to rest on the other.

The bartender smiled at her and chuckled. “Waiting for someone?”

Patricia nodded, blushing a bit at her own haste.

“Uh, yeah. Can I get some of your top shelf whiskey, on the rocks please?”

“Comin’ right up, honey.”

Patricia sighed lightly and settled herself in. The glass the bartender slid over to her was blessedly cool against her finger tips and the whiskey added the warming contrast that she reveled in. She hadn’t spotted Petra when she came in, but she didn’t have to wait very long until the dark haired girl found her.

“Excuse me, but is this seat taken?” An amused voice said into Patricia’s ear, causing her to jump a little.

Rolling her eyes, but smiling slightly, Patricia pulled her legs back from the seat.

“Kinda, but I guess you can sit here for now.”

Petra’s grin split her face as she took the offered seat, taking in Patricia’s outfit and the drink in her hand.

“Wow, and I though you looked amazing in an apron with your hair up. And it looks like you got started without me.”

Patricia flushed at the compliment, swirling the rest of her whiskey before knocking it back like a pro.

She shook the empty glass at Petra. “It’s a vice of mine. Don’t worry, I won’t count it as the one you owe me.”

Petra laughed and motioned to the bartender.

“Two more of what she had please, but one with coke, thanks!”

The bartender nodded with a wink. When they slid the drinks over, the two girls clacked them together in a toast and took a sip.

Petra hummed in approval. “You’ve got good tastes, Trish.”

Patricia smirked. “I’m picky about my whiskey.”

Petra nodded, taking another sip.

“Picky about dates, too.”

Patricia shrugged. “My last relationship didn’t end very well. I like to put some thought into who I go out with. I’m not going to end up a notch in someone’s bedpost.”

She didn’t really mean too, but the comment came out a little pointed and Petra flinched.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” She rubbed her face in her hand and fidgeted with her glass. “Ugh, I’m so bad at small talk, talking at all actually. That’s why I wrote that pick-up line on the check instead of talking to you directly. My brain just kind of went “hhnnng-pretty girl’.”

Patricia giggled, raising her brow.

“Really? Cause you seemed pretty confident after my shift.”

The bassist snorted, finishing her drink. “Oh hell no, I was on the verge of having an internal panic attack. Sorry about that, too. I get that you were probably tired and I just came off as annoying.”

The blonde smiled softly and nudged Petra with her elbow. “Eh, kinda. But I’m here now, right? So tell me a little more about yourself.”

(~~~)

The night went on and the girls conversation never dropped. The one drink Patricia agreed to had turned into her third, but she nursed them slowly, raptly engaged in their conversation. The night had been five hundred times better than Patricia thought it would be. And honestly, she didn’t want it to end.

The bar had increased in capacity as they talked, the dancefloor packed with sweaty, drunk bodies and people shouting over the house music. A particularly loud laugh from inside the crowd made Patricia’s blood run cold as she choked on the laugh from one of Petra’s stories.

The darker girl reached out, concern replacing the smile she’d been wearing all night.

“Whoa, are you okay? What it is?”

Patricia glanced out into the crowd, and sure enough there was the cause of one of the worst depressive episodes she’d ever had. Adam Andrews and some of his friends, making their way towards the bar.

Patricia turned so that she was completely facing the bar, instead of cock-eyed facing Petra.

“It’s my ex. You know, from the relationship I told you about?”

Petra glanced behind her quickly before turning to Patricia, wrapping her arm around her shoulders in an attempt to calm and comfort.

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got an idea.”

Gently, she pulled Patricia closer, positioning themselves so that their faces were close together as they huddled over the bartop. To anyone looking, they’d seem like nothing more than a couple sharing an intimate moment.

Adam and his friends ordered drinks before walking back out into the dancing crowd, barely sparing a glance at the two girls.

Patricia let out the breath she’d been holding and leaned into Petra, relief flooding her.

“Thank you, Petra.”

Petra just smiled and rubbed small circles into her shoulder.

“Don’t mention it.”

(~~~)

Before they knew it, 1am rolled around and Patricia could feel her eyes drooping.

Petra noticed and chuckled as she placed a good amount of cash in the jar for their tab, hopped down from the seat, and offered her hand to Patricia.

“Might I walk you out and call us a ride?”

Patricia accepted the hand, though just a touch wobbly, and followed Petra out into the cooler night air.

Petra quickly pulled up Lyft and requested a ride.

Patricia leaned against her side, think over the night and trying to think of a way to let Petra know she wouldn’t be opposed to another date.

The driver pulled up before she could figure it out, and Petra opened the door for her, climbing in after wards and asking if the driver minded dropping them off at two places.

“Hey, Trish, what’s your address?”

Patricia gave it to them, and they were off.

When they arrived at her house, Petra walked her up to the door, like a proper date.

“I’m glad you agreed to come out with me, Trish.”

“So am I.” Patricia laughed. “I’d love to do it again sometime. You know, when you’re not busy with your band.”

Petra’s eyes lit up and her grin was blinding.

“Yeah! I’ll text you!”

Patricia matched her grin, leaning up to place a soft kiss to Petra’s cheek.

“Good night, Petra. Thank you for everything.”

The pleasant surprise on Petra’s flushed face was the last thing Patricia saw as she closed the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I need to write stubborn/sassy trisha more often.  
> I also not-so-shamelessly wrote about my own experience as a waitress. The food industry is a wild place.


End file.
